A Marriage By Chance

by Carolyn Davidson

  While he groped for a suitable word, Chloe grinned at his confusion. The man wasn’t used to eating crow, she decided, and she wasn’t about to make it any more palatable for him to digest.

  “Are you laughing at me?” he asked abruptly, lifting his hands to her shoulders, turning her to face him. His frown was apparent in the moonlight, and she tried in vain to suppress the smile she wore. The light from the kitchen window exposed her face to his view, and then his head blotted the lamplight from her sight as he bent to touch his mouth to her forehead.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” he murmured. “I told you before, this is a first for me. I’ve never considered marriage, not until now.”

  “Well, you’re getting practice at making the offer,” she said lightly. “By the time you find someone willing to take a gamble on you, you’ll have it down pat.”

  “You’re not willing?” he asked. “I’m kinda fond of the idea myself.” His mouth teased a path across her cheek, and she held her breath, aware now of his goal. “I’m gonna kiss you, Chloe.”

  It was risky, she knew. Yet the temptation he offered beckoned, and she felt a moment’s resentment that these few stolen moments with J. T. Flannery might be all she’d ever have to tuck away into her memory box. Warm lips touched hers and pleasure welled within her, as she tilted her head to accept the caress he offered.

  Warm, moist and knowing, his mouth opened a bit, his teeth sending a shiver to dwell at the base of her spine as they touched her lower lip and held it in a tender vise. His tongue dampened the soft flesh and measured its width, and then he suckled it carefully, only to release it as he fit their mouths together again in a gentle kiss.

  Demanding nothing, seemingly willing to be satisfied with only the brushing of his lips against hers, he lifted his head to inhale sharply, his gaze seeking hers. “Chloe? Will you think about it?”

  Her body held upright by his strength, she leaned against him, her mouth cool as the breeze touched its moist surface. “Think about it?” Her mind focusing on the ability of a simple touching of lips to bring such delight, she could only repeat her query. “Think about what?” If only he’d lean just a bit, dip his head a few scant inches, that generous mouth would once more…

  His quiet laughter brought her to her senses and she stiffened at his words. “Don’t you know you’ve been proposed to, for the second time in one day?”

  “Really? I thought a genuine proposal included the words, Will you marry me?”

  “I suspect you’re right there,” he said. “I’m not doing this well, am I?”

  “Probably not, but it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference,” she told him. “I told you before, J.T., I’m not willing to get married, and much as I’ve enjoyed your kissing, it’s not going to persuade me into a wedding.” Her hands pressed firmly on his chest and his arms dropped to his sides.

  “Would it help if I said the words nicely?” An element of teasing rode each syllable and she bristled at his nonchalant attitude.

  “I don’t know how to say it any more clearly,” she said, her voice rising in increments as she spoke words she knew she would regret. And yet, no matter how the man appealed to her, no matter the lure of his touch and the kisses she’d reveled in, she would not allow him to sweet talk her into an alliance she couldn’t afford. She’d lost half the ranch already, and risking what was left of her inheritance was out of the question.

  “You’ll probably make someone a wonderful husband,” she told the man before her with exaggerated patience. “However, it isn’t going to be me.”

  His eyes scanned her face slowly. “Don’t count on that, sweetheart,” he said softly, his hands lifting to cradle her face. “I’m not used to giving up so easily. Especially when I want something as badly as I want you.”

  Chloe grasped his wrists, tugging with little success. “Damn you, Flannery. I don’t want you,” she yelled, the lie almost sticking in her throat as she shoved him from her, catching him off guard. His back hit the wood siding with a thud, and, caught up in the momentum, she fell against him. “Is that so hard for you to believe?” she whispered.

  The door opened with a bang. “Did you hear the lady?” Micah stood in the open doorway, and J.T. nodded a silent reply. His hands fell to his sides and Chloe closed her eyes, embarrassment sweeping over her like a tidal wave. She righted herself and stepped back, miserable, her heart aching with loss as she recognized the success of her denial.

  “Chloe, you come on in the house.” It was a command she could not ignore, given the respect she held for her aunt, and Chloe answered the summons, stepping past Micah and into Tilly’s arms. Behind her the door closed, and Tilly pushed her into a chair.

  “Now, you tell me what was going on out there, girl. I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard the two of you carrying on thataway. Micah’s about fit to be tied, and I’m not far behind him.”

  “J.T. wants me to marry him,” she said dully, looking down at her hands. Fingers trembling, she clasped them together in her lap and counted the hot tears that fell to glisten in the lamplight against her skin.

  Tilly laughed, a resounding cackle that brought Chloe’s head up in surprise. “What did you expect, girl? The man’s nearly besotted. Can’t hardly keep his eyes off you. I saw this coming from the day I met him.”

  Tilly was a blurred vision as Chloe blinked away the tears, and looked directly into the older woman’s eyes. “I can’t risk losing my half of the ranch, Aunt Tilly. Once I marry, I’ll lose any control I have over what happens here. When I think of what Peter’s done to me, I could shake the stuffings out of him.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, child. You can’t blame Peter for making you so bull-headed. J.T.’s not after your share of the ranch. He just wants you. Is that so hard for you to understand?”

  Chloe’s jaw clenched as she considered Tilly’s words, and then she shook her head in denial. “He thinks he can kiss me and make monkeyshines with me and I’ll just give in, Aunt Tilly. He makes my head swim with all his foolishness.”

  “That’s called desire, sweetie, for lack of a better word. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings and hankerin’ after the man. He’s wanting to make it legal, ain’t he? He hasn’t tried to get you between the sheets without a wedding, has he?”

  Chloe shook her head vehemently. “Of course not. And I wouldn’t anyway.” Although, if she were absolutely honest, a few more minutes in his arms and she’d have considered it, had there been a feather tick right handy. What she’d have done, once she got there, was another thing to wonder at.

  Breeding horses and cattle was a far cry from what went on between men and women. Even an ignoramus like her knew that.

  Dinner the next day was a silent meal, and J.T. had left the table, leaving Chloe to her thoughts.

  “Chloe, come take a gander at this.” Aunt Tilly’s tone was impatient and she turned from the window, holding aside the curtain, the better for her niece to look out across the yard. A rider sat atop his horse, shoulders hunched a little, his hat pulled low over his eyes, and the familiar silhouette of her brother brought a smothered gasp of surprise from Chloe’s lips.

  “I’ll be—” she began, and then her voice trailed off. “Is it really Peter?” She opened the back door and stepped onto the porch, Tilly close behind her.

  “Sure looks like it to me,” Tilly said dryly. “I told you he’d turn up one day. How much you want to bet he’s tryin’ to sweet-talk J.T. into taking him on?”

  “Why would he need to approach J.T.?” Chloe snapped, her boots striking the steps harshly. “He’s family, and he doesn’t have to kowtow to anyone. There’s always a place for Peter here.”

  “Thought you were gonna shake the stuffings out of him,” Tilly said dryly. “Now you’re ready to greet him like the prodigal son.”

  Chloe came to a halt, then looked back at her aunt. “I’m still mad at him, but I’m sure glad to see he’s all right. I’ll wait till later to knock some sense into him.
”

  Her strides were long as she stalked across the yard, her boots kicking up small spurts of dust behind her, her gaze focused on the lean figure of her brother. “Peter?” A hint of apprehension tinged the syllables as she spoke his name and she watched as his shoulders stiffened, and then his head turned in her direction.

  “Hey, Sis.” The greeting was quiet, a bit defensive, she decided, as if he doubted his welcome. “I just sent Willie looking for your new boss man. Thought I might as well find out right off the bat how welcome I’m going to be.”

  “You’re always welcome when you come home,” she said quietly. He looked young, she thought, unsure and utterly weary. “Aunt Tilly has a kettle of soup on the back of the stove,” she offered. “Why don’t you come on up and eat? J.T. can find you in the house just as easy as not.”

  “I’d rather talk to him here.” The tone was harsh, she decided, peering into the barn as J.T.’s tall figure appeared in the wide doorway.

  “Why don’t you let Tilly know your brother’s here, Chloe?” J.T.’s eyes narrowed as he turned them on her, and she felt the chill of his anger, as if it were a viable thing.

  It was a dismissal, and she stung from the lash of his words. “She knows already,” Chloe said, standing her ground. “I’d like to hear what you have to say to Peter.”

  “No, I don’t think you would,” J.T. told her. And to her surprise, Peter nodded glumly.

  “Go on up to the house, Sis. If I’d wanted you to be in on this, I’d have come to the house first.”

  It stung. The harsh message from J.T. was one she could handle; in fact this whole episode would serve to build a barrier between them, and that might be for the best. But to have her brother so easily shut her out delivered a hurtful blow, and she could only nod and turn away.

  J.T.’s eyes noted her clenched jaw, and his gaze followed her as she walked back toward the porch. The pain of rejection gripped her, holding her stiffly erect, her head high. He ached for her, even as he acknowledged the need for privacy during these few moments with Peter Biddleton. His temper rode a fine edge as he turned back to the youth who sat astride his horse. Resentment was written on his young features, and stark hatred filled his gaze.

  “You know why I’m here, I suspect,” Peter said.

  “Well, why don’t you just tell me, and save me the guesswork,” J.T. drawled. “I can’t say I’d expected to see you hereabouts. Seems like you’ve given your sister enough grief without adding to it by coming around looking for a handout.”

  “I’m not looking for a handout. I expect to earn my way,” Peter said staunchly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Spit it out, boy.”

  “I need a job,” Peter told him. “Seems like there should be one here for me, seeing as how it’s my own home.”

  J.T. shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, son. It’s not your home. Not anymore. Remember? You gambled it away, as I recall, holding a full house against my four jacks.”

  “And I suppose you’ve had a field day, telling folks hereabouts how you got the best of the Biddletons, haven’t you?” The words sounded petulant to J.T.’s ears and the accusation stung, unfair as it was.

  “Matter of fact, I’ve told folks that you sold me your share of the ranch,” he said mildly. “Take it or leave it, boy, that’s the truth.”

  A look that might have been relief softened the anger in Peter’s eyes and he shifted in his saddle. “Well, the truth is, I need a job for a while. I’m a good hand, Hogan can tell you that. Besides—” his smile was faint, but taunting “—my sister’ll be madder than a wet hen if you send me off without giving me a chance.”

  “Chloe doesn’t tell me what to do when it comes to the hired hands,” J.T. told him. “We have an understanding.”

  “Oh, I’ll just bet you do,” Peter said, his eyes measuring his opponent. “I suspect you figured Chloe for a soft touch, didn’t you? A woman alone, trying to run this place. I’ll warrant you fed her a line to get on her good side.”

  J.T.’s hands clenched, and he resisted the urge to haul Peter from his horse. Slamming him against the barn door would ease his aggravation, but it wouldn’t do a hell of a lot for his tenuous relationship with Chloe. “Your sister doesn’t enter into this,” he said quietly. “If you’re asking for a job, I’ll have to tell you that the wages aren’t much right now. You’d ought to remember how you emptied her bank account on your way out of town a few months ago. Your sister’s been operating on borrowed funds.”

  “I only took what I had coming,” Peter said harshly. “And if it hadn’t been for you I’d still be in charge here.”

  “Now, how do you figure that?” J.T. widened his stance, his fists lifting to rest against his hips, even as he allowed a smile to curve his mouth. “I’d like to hear this, boy. You’re saying I made you put your share of the ranch on the table in Silver City?”

  Peter hesitated. “I’m saying you mighta had a little help with those four jacks, Flannery. Not that I have any solid proof, but it sure seems like the sun was shining on you that day.”

  “Well, sonny,” J.T. drawled. “When the time comes that you want to make that accusation stick, you just let me know, and I’ll be ready to take you on. In the meantime, you go on up to the house and let your sister pat you on the head and tell you how wonderful you are.”

  “While you decide if I’m to be allowed a place in the bunkhouse?” Peter’s face colored as he jerked his reins. “I’m not sleeping in a bunk when I’ve got a room to call my own in the house, Flannery.”

  J.T. grinned, delighted with the revelation he was about to unload on the unwary youth. “I’ve got your old room, I’m afraid. If I decided to let you stay here, you’ll just be one of the hired hands, Pete, not the prodigal son. And if that’s not to your liking, you can head on down the road and find someone else’s shoulder to cry on. I figure you’ve probably got Chloe all teary-eyed, but you don’t impress me.”

  “You sonova—”

  “Stop right there,” J.T. interrupted. “One more word and you can forget the whole idea. Like it or not, that’s the way it is. Hogan’s the foreman here, and he answers to me. Anything you’ve got to say, you can spout out right here and now, but you won’t be questioning my mama’s virtue, not any day of the week.”

  Peter stepped down from his mount and raised one hand in greeting, looking over J.T.’s shoulder. “Hey, there, Willie. Come on out here and take my horse, will you? I’ll be up at the house.” His gaze flicked again to J.T., as he spoke with galling arrogance to the man who’d approached from within the barn.

  “That’s not the way it’s gonna be,” J.T. said quietly. “You’ll tend your own horse, Pete.”

  “When I decide I need a nickname, I’ll let you know.” With a frustrated glare at J.T., Peter stalked past him, leading his mount into the barn.

  J.T. turned to watch him go, and caught Willie’s eye, a slight shake of his head sending a message the young man could not fail to understand. Willie’s hands slid into his pockets as Peter approached, and then with a murmur, he headed for the back of the barn.

  He watched Peter climb the porch steps to reach for and embrace Chloe’s small, compact figure. And then she looked across the yard at J.T., her gaze piercing him like a lightning bolt, her head tossing in rejection as she opened the door and entered the house, Peter fast on her heels.

  He’d known it would come to this one day. But now wasn’t the time he’d have chosen for this confrontation, J.T. thought angrily. The boy was important to his sister, and she was going to lean in his direction. If a push came to a shove, Pete would win her affection, no matter how attracted she was to her new partner.

  And that attraction was a given. He’d known since the first kiss that she could be wooed and won, and after the moments on the porch the other night, he’d tasted victory. The memory of her supple body and the recollection of her mouth, warm and welcoming beneath his, was solid. Chloe was a woman to be cherished.<
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  She was exactly what he’d dreamed of in those long nights when he’d allowed his yearnings full rein, envisioning a place to call home and a wife to call his own. She was strong and capable, and had a backbone a mile long. She’d work beside him and give him sons. Partnership be damned.

  She was worth whatever effort it took to persuade her to his bed.

  “Is your brother going to stick around?” J.T. was a towering shadow in the moonlight. Chloe watched as he walked toward her, and her every sense was alert. For all her aggravation at the man, she could not fault his judgment when it came to Peter—or Pete, as the young man had mumbled at the supper table, in response to her speaking his name. And then he’d tossed a resentful look at J.T. as she repeated the diminutive.

  His saddlebags in hand, he’d gone to the bunkhouse after supper. Chloe’s trip up the stairs had produced a fat feather pillow and one of her mother’s quilts for Pete’s use, along with a set of sheets for his bunk. She’d watched him, a strange sense of relief filling her. Hesitantly, she’d admitted to herself that J.T. was more able to handle her willful brother, lessening the load on her own shoulders.

  Her father had despaired of his only son ever amounting to anything, and the admission had been painful for John Biddleton to come by. “Your ma spoiled him rotten,” he’d told Chloe, only days before his death. “She always favored him, but you’re the stronger one. I need to protect you, girl. I’ll have Paul Taylor change things in my will one of these days, so you can run things here and keep Peter’s hands out of things.”

  But he hadn’t. Perhaps it was the knowledge that her father would have done much the same as J.T., had he been here this afternoon, that made Chloe soften toward the man who stood before her now. “Is he going to stay?” he asked, repeating his query.

  “I suspect so,” she said quietly. “He took his gear out to the bunkhouse. I’ll get down his old clothes from the attic in the morning. I cleaned his closet and packed everything away when you arrived.” She looked up at J.T. and tried to smile, but the effort failed. “He didn’t bring much with him, did he?”